


When Skies Are Gray

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is John Egbert, and you have just had the shittiest day.  Like, if you were watching your life happen on a TV screen somewhere instead of actually living it, you would totally be cracking up at how comedically shitty this day was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Skies Are Gray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [canticle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canticle/gifts).



Your name is John Egbert, and you have just had the shittiest day. Like, if you were watching your life happen on a TV screen somewhere instead of actually living it, you would totally be cracking up at how comedically shitty this day was.

Unfortunately, you don’t have that luxury. Instead you had to deal with all of it yourself, from waking up an hour and a half late for class to tripping over something just now and pretty much faceplanting over the threshold of your own apartment. You pick yourself back up and eye the aggressor, an electric menorah that Dave bought last week for reasons unbeknownst to anyone but himself.

Once you’re safely inside and the menorah has been properly taken care of, you bound straight to the ugly couch in front of the TV. The one thing that kept you going on the long and freezing trek back home was the thought that Dave would be there when you got back, chilling out right there and probably wearing weird boxers.

He would pretend to be totally unsuspecting, and you would jump over the back of the couch in a single leap and stick your cold nose in his ear, and then you’d get comfortable and tell him all about how extravagantly bad your day has been. In between makeouts, of course. The only current flaw with this plan is that Dave is nowhere to be found.

You stare at the empty couch for a few moments, trying to regroup, and eventually decide that the plan can still be salvaged with some minor readjustments. The first order of business, of course, is to locate Dave.

The bedroom yields nothing, even though he likes to sit around in there looking at all his weird dead stuff. Same for the kitchen, even though Terezi sometimes convinces him via the internet to blow things up with the microwave while you’re not around. He’s not in the bathroom, either, even though yesterday you found him freestyling in the shower about his new loofah. You even start to check the closets, until you almost get suffocated by a sudden avalanche of shitty Christmas sweaters. At that point, you arrive at the conclusion that Dave probably isn't in a closet anyway, and if he is you should probably try to be understanding and let him come out of it on his own time. Hehehe.

Jokes aside, clearly Dave is not in the apartment. You make your way sadly back to the couch, which is a lot less charming and a lot more hideous when Dave isn't sitting on it, doing Dave stuff. When he's out around this time it's usually because he's at one of his weird shady puppet meetings, which sucks both because you know he hates those things and because that means he won’t answer any of your texts. You send three anyway, just to be sure.

Figuring you might as well make the most of the evening, you grab a bag of Cheetos, microwave yourself a pot pie and sit down in front of an episode of Hoarders.

It's only when you find yourself reaching down to pet all of your imaginary cats that you realize this is pretty sad. You can't call up Rose or Jade, either, because they both take nighttime classes for the freakishly intelligent around this time. You send them a couple of texts, too, but no responses are forthcoming.

You glare at your phone for a while even though it isn't really its fault that your friends are too busy for you and the world is bleak. Eventually, Hoarders reaches its touching conclusion and you curl up at one corner of the couch. Grabbing for the nearest blanketlike object, you settle on an afghan that Rose knitted for you and try your best to fall asleep scowling so that Dave will know you’re pissed when he gets back.

It's hard work to keep up all that facial action when you just want to catch some z's, though. Man, this sucks.

By the time the door creaks open and Dave steps in, it's dark outside and you're right in the middle of a dream about flying. He manages to trip over the menorah even though you thought you'd moved it to a place where it could no longer cause peril, but you don't even care, because Dave is an ass.  
"I don't even care that you tripped over that menorah," you remark from your position on the couch, just so he knows.  
He jumps a little. "Jesus shit, Egbert."

You make a note that Rose-knitted afghans and Cheeto dust work as effective camouflage. Then you try to scowl as Dave comes closer and turns on a light, but you sort of forget again when you see that he's wearing his business outfit and looks pretty tired out. Being the heir of a puppet-porn empire is definitely not all fun and games, as some people seem to think.

"Meeting?" you ask sympathetically. He nods and flops down on the couch next to you and its weird, pukey-looking beige color magically becomes charming instead of heinous.

"So,” you say, trying for just the right amount of boyish charm mixed with the sort of inflection that will make Dave want to take his clothes off later. “How you doin’?”

Dave just raises his eyebrows.

"That was great, man. Really special."

You regard him hopefully, and brush off a little bit of the fine covering of Cheeto dust you seem to have accumulated. It’s only a few seconds before he caves.  
"C'mere," he says, pushing his shades up onto his forehead and letting you get all up in his business, halfway sitting on him and fitting the top of your head underneath his chin and arranging yourself just the way you like, which Dave calls convoluted and ridiculous but you know he secretly enjoys.

And, true to form, after a few minutes his hand drops into your hair and scruffs through it affectionately, and then he's kind of absently petting you as you carry on about your shitty professor and the shitty weather and the shitty episode of Hoarders that was on. Just as planned.


End file.
